Face hard again, the intensity in his eyes goes shuttered. A shadow falls over his features like a fast approaching dusk, darkening the scales of his cheeks until he regards me with nothing more than cold apathy.
The second my feet hit the ground, he releases his hold on me like I’ve burned him. All the warmth I’d felt from his touch is gone, leaving me bereft. He turns without a word, already walking away, while guilt freezes in my gut.
I watch him go, one foot poised to walk after him, the other foot firmly on the ground. My mouth is dry, but my eyes are wet. I want to say everything, yet I say nothing.
And so, the pendulum swings again, ticking with my choices. Somehow, it sounds like the hooves of Rip’s horse as he rides away from me.
Chapter 35
QUEEN MALINA
I’ve never liked taking theride down the mountain.
It’s winding and steep, dangerous even on clear days, the road always icy and littered with slick divots and rock. But when there’s a winter storm—and there usually is—the road becomes even more treacherous.
I keep the curtain drawn tightly closed against the window, my teeth clenching every time the carriage jolts.
I suppose I’m lucky that it’s only slightly windy and snowy right now. I refuse to return to the castle tonight if there’s a storm, so all I can do is hope that the weather holds.
Jeo reaches forward, squeezing my thigh. “It’s alright, my queen. Nearly there.”
I give a terse nod, saying nothing, a hand pressed to my miserable stomach.
“Why take this trip into the city when you’re so frightened of the carriage ride?” Jeo asks.
My eyes slice over to him where he sits beside me. “I’m not frightened. Therouteis frightening,” I argue sharply. “There’s a difference.”
Jeo flashes a stunning smile. “Of course.”
I narrow my gaze on him, unamused, but he just smiles wider. He’s as relaxed as can be in my golden carriage, legs spread out as much as the space allows, head resting against the wall, a quiet whistle on his lips.
The fact that he’s so unworried, worries me.
It seems like a weakness, if I’m honest. The intelligent are always considering the what-ifs, the could-happens. Our minds a constant spin of possibilities and outcomes.
If you don’t worry, you’re either a fool or you’vebeenfooled.
I watch him from my peripheral. At least he’s a pretty fool who knows how to use his cock.
Letting out a breath, I reach up and smooth back his blood-red hair. “I need to make an appearance. Under the right patronage, peasants can be a powerful group to utilize. I intend to use them to my advantage. There’s dissent among the impoverished, and I want to ensure that dissent is pointed at Tyndall, not me.”
Jeo winces a bit. “Word of advice? Perhaps don’t call them peasants. Or talk about using them.”
I wave him off, my fingers gripping the edge of the velvet seat when we hit another bump.
Jeo pinches the corner of the gold curtain at the window on his side and peers out. “We’ve made it all the way down,” he tells me reassuringly. “We’ll be on the bridge soon.”
I’m finally able to sit back in my seat and let out a tight breath. Shoving my curtain aside, I watch as we roll along the ground, blessedly off the narrow road of the mountain.
Soon, the carriage wheels are clacking over cobblestones, the sound of a bustling Highbell making its way to my ears. When I normally visit the city, I only go to the affluent part to dine or to shop.
Today, I’ll be going right into the middle of its haggard heart.
My guards ride in formation around us, horse hooves clopping. When the carriage stops and my footman opens the door to let me out, I already have the queenly mask covering my expression, posture perfect, my white gown pristine.
As I step into the market square, my opal crown diffracts the brittle daylight, the bottom of my dress sweeping the snow-littered ground, polishing it clear.
The guards have blocked off a part of the square, a long table set up ahead of time. A crowd has gathered already, since news seems to travel faster than royal carriages.
